Steve's Schedule
by ForTheGlory
Summary: Steve Rogers has a schedule, and you don't mess with that schedule. (Companion to Steve's phone)


Steve is a military man, it's been engrained in him. That being said, this doesn't mean he's simply a jarhead or that he clings to everything he knows from the war. What it does mean is that he enjoys order in his life to prevent chaos and needless stress. Specifically, stress from being an avenger. Between Thor's constant bellowing and 'bull in a china shop' way of being, Clint's unusual quirks (like figuring out how to sneak into each avenger's bedroom to place an unpleasant surprise), making sure Bruce was kept stress free from the other three antagonists in the tower, and just keeping Tony _alive_ , he needed a method to keep away the insanity. The only way he knew how to cope with stress (as well as keeping his anxiety and bouts of insomnia at bay) was to stay on schedule. He kept a daily schedule in the penthouse kitchen and had given everyone else a copy, not for them to follow, but to be aware of his routine. Not that the others hadn't taken notice of his daily rituals.

Wake up early, 7:00 sharp and head to the gym to run, box, or spar with anyone who might be awake and willing. Done by 9:00 it's shower time, finished by 9:20. Ten minutes to shave, comb hair, brush teeth, and dress. 9:30 is breakfast, he makes his own as well as everyone else's, and delivers them if they haven't already stumbled into the kitchen. Most of the time, Tony forgets what time-or day- it is, so it's usually hand delivered. Breakfast is done by 10:30 and at this point Steve is checking with everyone to make sure all his ducks are in order. Has Tony slept, showered, had coffee recently? Did Bruce remember to meditate, has he done yoga already, does he need tea? Did Clint get caught in an air duct again, is he taking care of his wounds, did he sleep in the tower last night? Did Natasha's last mission go well, what does she need to unwind, did Clint antagonize her again? Has Thor broke anything, is he pining for Jane, does he need to make a check in with Asgard? Steve does this at least until 12:30 and then everyone meets to discuss 'business' over lunch. This is the point of the day where Steve's schedule begins to fall apart, and as a result he's usually very anxious and moody over lunch.

After lunch, he joins Clint and Natasha in working with new S.H.I.E.L.D recruits. They usually arrive by 2:00 and while the two agents try to escape the newbies and work on intel, Steve tries to teach basic combat methods and tactics to as many of the baby faced soldiers as he can. They finish by 4:30 and are back in the tower by 5:00. Dinner is at 6:00 and cooking duties rotate between each person. Though, this tends to backfire often as Tony simply orders takeout, Clint always attempts new things that rarely ends up edible, Bruce is really the only one who can cook well, and Natasha convinces someone else to make dinner. Dinner is finished by 7:00 and until midnight, Steve has free time scheduled, simply for sanity's sake.

If it's movie night, they spend the entire night watching various films, otherwise activities range from team bonding, press appearances, Steve actually spending time on his art, or spending time with someone from the team. It almost always tends to be Tony. Then, at midnight, he finally excuses himself to his lonely apartment to attempt sleep. 12:05 is brushing teeth, and turning down for bed. By 12:10 he is in his bed and tries to sleep. If by 12:40 he still has not slept, he gets up and finds something to do. He tries to avoid the rest of the team, as being awake late into the morning concerns them. He'd rather they not know that he has problems sleeping, mainly for team morale. Having a weak leader would be problematic, and his authority could be compromised. He needed to be strong, for their sake, for the team's sake.

If he was resigned enough, however, he would sneak down to Tony's workshop and peek in on him. If he was asleep, which, although rare, did happen, Steve would wake him and get him into bed or at least to the sofa. If Tony was awake and working, he joined him and watched. Occasionally they would hold a conversation but, a majority of the time Tony was too immersed to do more than hum in agreement to a conversation he wasn't really listening to. Not that Steve blamed him, it wasn't polite of him to bother Tony when he was working and expect him to be hanging on his every word. For this reason, unless Tony initiated conversation, Steve took to sketching him. He enjoyed when Tony was in the workshop, because he shed one of his barriers of being Tony Stark, charismatic billionaire genius.

He dressed in old, ragged jeans and vintage t-shirts, his hair mussed from running his hands through it in frustration and thought. There was usually also some sort of grime on him from whatever project he was in the middle of. Watching him write or make plans was a sort of godsend for him, as Steve couldn't imagine how covered in graphite he would be with a pencil in his hand. He left behind his dashing smile and voice that he used to address the media, and instead his face moved and shifted into various frown lines, pleased smiles, and smirks of ingenuity. His eyes shone bright, filled with laughter and life instead of being hard and steely to ward away potential threats.

It wasn't far along when Steve had begun spending more time in the workshop-at Tony's request when he started noticing the blond wondering aimlessly around the tower at night-that he realized somewhere along the line he had started to feel like more than a friend to Tony. He found himself wanting to see his face constantly, and if he was honest, more than just his face. As a result, he had even garnered a very unhealthy habit of snapping pictures of Tony when he wasn't paying attention. They were mostly to use as a sketching reference for later, or so Steve assured himself. Not that Steve's sketches were always so innocent anyways. He had nearly been caught by more than a few of his teammates when he was sketching and they moved around him to peer at his work.

He generally stayed within the shop until Tony called it quits or he started to doze off. When the latter happened, he normally passed out on the sofa, thankful that Tony kept a blanket and pillow handy for times like that. If he could have it his way, he wanted to be asleep by the very latest at 4:30. And then the cycle repeated the next day. He moved in such synchronization with his schedule that anyone and everyone around him knew where he was at all times, which he appreciated. They also tried not to get in the way of that schedule. Most times.

For the most part, for a long time Steve's schedule had gone relatively undisturbed. The only exception was when the team got a call, and that was fine because it was work. Even if the schedule shifted a bit, that was something Steve could deal with, though begrudgingly. Then, there was finally one day where everything went to hell, because of Tony Stark. Steve had been sleeping soundly in his bed, on one of the few nights he had managed to get to sleep decently enough, when JARVIS woke him gently.

"Excuse me, Captain Rogers?" Unfortunately for Steve, he was a very light sleeper. Instinct left over from the war. You'd better be ready to be up and moving in a moment's notice.

"Yeah, J? What'dya need?" His voice scraped on a dry throat from sleep.

"Mister Stark is at the door for you." Steve rubbed the sleep from his eyes, confusion waving over him.

"There something going on?" There was a pause before the AI responded.

"I don't believe so, Sir. I can ask…?" JARVIS offered, uncertain.

"Nah, that's fine JARVIS, thanks." He rose from his bed and walked to his door, hearing impatient shuffling from the other side. He pulled the door open and Tony shot him a quick smile, fidgeting as he spoke fast.

"How you doing champ? Let's go, we're getting out of here. You good to go in that or you wanna change? Not going anywhere that requires a suit, obviously." Tony gestured to himself, clothes grease stained, usual ripped jeans and a plain long sleeved shirt. Steve pulled a hand through his hair, trying to tame what he assumed must've been horrible bed hair.

"Sure, but where the hell are we going? Is there something going on?" He frowned slightly, trying to study Tony who was still making small, antsy movements.

"Don't know yet! We're going for a ride, somewhere, anywhere." Tony's eyes were wide and his hands shook as he threw them in the air, trying to force a smile.

"Are you alright, Tony?" Steve spoke cautiously, unsure what to make of his behavior. He had only seen this kind of behavior in drug addicts, and never before in Tony. The smaller man bobbed his head in large movements.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go, you coming?" Steve grabbed his jacket and threw it over his white tank top. He assumed it looked ridiculous with sweatpants, but he would have to stand it. His friend was in some sort of distress and needed his help. Seeing the jacket, Tony grinned, a genuine smile this time, and moved quickly back towards the elevator. When they arrived in the garage, Steve looked around. Just what the hell time was it anyway? It was still dark, still cold, and very quiet outside.

"What time is it?" He asked Tony, who was deciding which vehicle to take.

"We're taking the A9, hop in." Steve sighed and got into the car without argument.

"They actually let you keep this thing?" Steve commented, impressed with the vehicle. Tony got in and shrugged as he started the car.

"I helped make it, they sure as hell better not have a problem with me taking it." The engine thrummed loudly as they pulled from the garage, too quickly for Steve's preferences.

"Ok, easy there, calm down. What's going on Tony?" His eyes caught the time on the dash when the other man wouldn't answer. "Ah damn, 5:00?" Too early to be out of bed, unless like Tony, you had never gone to bed at all. He suspected this was the case.

"Uh, yeah, sorry about that. You can sleep if you want though, it's going to be a long drive."

"A long drive? Where the hell are we going?" Steve felt his tone and knew he sounded angry. He cursed himself internally. Now was not the time to be mad with Tony. Despite it being 5:00 AM.

"I was thinking Vegas? Though, we can just take a shorter route to Atlantic City." Steve's face twitched,

"I'll kick your ass into the next decade if you take me Atlantic City." Tony threw his head back in hysterical laughter.

"That's what I'm talking about! Vegas it is!" Steve rubbed his eyes, it was too damn early for this.

"Tony, we're not going to Vegas, what is going _on_?" Steve pleaded with him, to just let him in and help. It was unsettling to see him this way.

"I'm driving, you got in willingly; we're going to Vegas." A huff of air from Steve in response.

"We're _not_ going to Vegas!" He had raised his voice in frustration and he saw the other flinch back in response. Damn it, he couldn't do shit right.

"Fine! Breakfast then." Tony yelled back in response, his mouth twisting, trying to hold back whatever was burning him up inside. They pulled off suddenly in front of a diner and Tony threw the car into a quick stop, jolting them inside. He exited hastily, before Steve could grab hold of him and shake him to his sense. Steve stepped from the car and followed him into the diner. By the time he entered, Tony had seated himself and was pouring over the menu with too much interest. Steve sat across from him and let the silence sit for a while. Tony didn't have to tell him what was wrong, but damn it if it wouldn't help ease his worry. A waitress brought them a pot of coffee and left it at the table. Tony thanked her and swiftly poured as much of the liquid as he could into the mug. He took a large gulp and hummed, disappointed. "It's not great coffee, but it'll do. What are you getting? I can't decide." His foot jerked his leg into a speedy cadence under the table as he spoke. Steve closed his eyes, trying to keep his own emotions under check.

"Eggs, over easy with some pancakes and sausage. Tony, will you please talk to me?" Tony's eyes finally met his worried glance for the first time that morning.

"I'm trying." It came out as a choked whisper and his hand curled tight on the coffee mug in front of him. Steve's heart clenched painfully, now seeing the panic and sadness his eyes held. Tony wasn't always good with words, with telling people how he felt and what was running through his head, but he looked as though he desperately wanted to. Steve reached out and placed his hand over Tony's, who placed his other hand over and held tightly, as though it was a lifeline.

"Take your time. What do you want to eat?"

When they finally finished their hearty breakfast, it was 6:30 and the air between them had been fairly quiet. Tony still hadn't told him what was eating him up inside, though he shifted uncomfortably in his chair and his brow closed in on itself as though he was conflicted about confessing his problems. Steve tried to stay mostly quiet, hoping that not pressing and simply being a comforting presence would ease Tony into opening up. Even still, he still hadn't said a thing. He was actually avoiding the coffee that had now gone cold at the table. That was worrisome, as he tended to drink the black liquid like it was water in the desert. Steve watched him carefully as he scraped the bottom of his oatmeal with his spoon. He let it clatter into the bowl and he looked up, displeased.

"Can you please not stare at me like that?" Steve jerked into control of his body once more, unaware that his eyes had been wandering over the man across him. His face flushed and he quickly diverted his eyes away.

"Sorry I-I didn't…" Tony sighed while Steve struggled to explain himself.

"I know you didn't do it on purpose, but you can stop trying to analyze me, Steve." Steve frowned, mirroring Tony's face.

"I'm not analyzing you!" He raised his voice in defense. Tony's brow and mouth twitched upwards.

"Yeah? You're not trying to figure out what the problem is, you're not pitying me?"

"I don't pity you, Tony. I just want to help you." He spoke softly.

"No one ever said it was your job to help me."

"No, it's not my job. No one ever forced me into it, Tony, it's something I want to do. Last I checked, no one was telling me I couldn't do what I wanted." Tony scoffed, and pulled out his wallet as the waitress approached.

"Like you would listen anyway." Steve handed the waitress money before she could take Tony's card.

"No, I probably wouldn't. You going to hit the gym with me? You probably need to get some sleep." Tony shook his head even as he said the words.

"Nah, sleep can wait. The gym sounds great. I'm not running with you though." Tony stood and walked out of the diner. Steve waved his thanks to the waitress and told her to keep the change as a tip as he followed the brunette out.

"Guys are going to be pissed we ate without them." Steve mumbled to himself, as he began to plan out breakfast in his head.

"We can grab them something, come on; hop in." If there was one thing about Tony when he was stressed, it was that you could count on him moving, constantly. The fact that Steve had gotten him to sit still for nearly two hours was nothing short of a miracle.

They stopped at a small bakery not far from the tower and purchased an assortment of scones, buns, pastries, crepes, donuts, and muffins. Even having just ate, Steve was drooling inside the pastry shop, which Tony didn't miss. He handed Steve a box of his own when they were back at the tower.

"I saw your jealous face back there. Go ahead, eat up, it's all yours. You deserve it, Cap." Steve set the box aside in the kitchen, reluctantly. It was 7:30 and it was past time to get down to the gym.

"Thanks…" He grinned at the other man, who lit up at the appreciation. "Now, you changing?" Tony's face fell a bit.

"Yeah, I guess…Unless…" He raised his eyes hopefully. "Do you want to just watch a movie? Let's take the morning off. The gym can wait." Steve's hands squeezed into fists, anxiety creeping up with the thought of ruining his morning routine. He made the mistake of looking at Tony, who had donned wide eyes that rivaled those of a young fawn. He took in a breath to relax.

"Sure, that sounds great." He smiled weakly and Tony smiled back. He began to rattle titles off to JARVIS and the TV switched on. Steve settled on the sofa and wrung his hands while Tony brewed a fresh pot of coffee, good coffee as he reminded Steve from the kitchen, and could not see the anxiety creep over the soldier. His mind was racing to fix his schedule, to find a place to go to the gym. He finally reasoned that he could switch his morning and evening. Free time now, gym later. He turned his attention back to the present as Tony stretched out next to him on the sofa and Steve made sure to release his hands, now rubbed red. The movie started and Tony took a big swallow of coffee, letting out a moan of happiness.

"That's the stuff." He closed his eyes, happy. Steve meanwhile had a jolt of electricity sent through his spine from the sound of pleasure. Christ, it was the stuff of dreams. He pulled his legs into his body, trying to keep his mind straight. Tony opened his eyes to look at him.

"Relax for once, Rogers. You look like you've got glass up your ass. Broken glass, I should say." He chuckled at his own joke, but Steve didn't move. "Seriously, calm down. Don't make me come over there." Steve let out his breath and tried to recline, to get comfortable. Tony only rolled his eyes. "Yeah, reclining back 45 degrees, I'm sure that helped a whole ton. You're stiff as a damn board. C'mere." He set his mug down and pulled his legs to sit cross legged, gesturing for Steve to scoot closer. The blond didn't move, face dubious at the request. Tony rarely sat close enough to touch people, much less show physical affection. "Don't just stare at me, dummy! Come. Here. Lay back." Steve could feel his face hot, and he hoped to god Tony didn't notice as he shifted to lay back. Tony's hands were on his shoulders and he guided him until his head was in the brunette's lap. He felt the warmth rolling off of Tony's hands and could smell his cologne and a metallic smell that intertwined with his own natural scent. If anything, now he was even edgier, being this close to him.

"What-" He opened his mouth to speak and Tony's hands rubbed tenderly over his scalp. "Ahhhhh…" He let out a heavy sigh and could feel himself relaxing little by little. A headache he hadn't realized he had was being relieved as fingers moved in his hair.

"There you go, that's much better, right?" Steve found himself unable to answer, drifting off to catch up on sleep he desperately needed. This was certainly better than the gym.

"Hey Tony, have you seen-"

"Shut up, will you?" Tony's voice hissed out and Steve jolted awake, taking a large gasp of air as though emerging from water.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy there." Steve scrambled upright as Tony spoke low, trying to calm him. His body trembled from being ripped suddenly from sleep, ready to bolt. He examined his surroundings, head moving around wildly. He caught Bruce's eye, standing in the kitchen, seemingly surprised to see the super soldier.

"Wow, there you are, Steve. We've been wondering where you were all morning. Sorry." He apologized, seeing the man in distress. Steve could see he felt guilty for waking him. Steve stood carefully and passed a hand over his face, trying to will his heart to just _slow down_.

"No, it's fine, Bruce, don't worry about it." He realized the TV was silent and his heart only sped up. "Jesus, how long was I asleep? What time is it?"

"Eleven. None of us had seen you and we got worried. Kind of unusual for you not to come around." Steve's hands curled into fists and his nails dug into his palms, some breaking skin.

"Shit! You," He whirled around and pointed at Tony, who was scowling at Bruce, "go take a shower, you're a mess. Have you seen Clint at all yet?" He demanded from Bruce, the man shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"Uh, no I haven't. I haven't seen him since last night."

"Has Nat made it back yet?"

"She's on her way back, maybe an hour or so last I knew."

"Where's Thor?"

"In the gym, waiting for you and wondering where breakfast is." Steve was barking out demands, heart racing. Bruce seemed a little unsettled, but dutifully answered. Tony was frozen on the couch, seeming astounded by Steve's sudden behavior.

"I'll take Thor's breakfast to him, you grab something too. Have you had any tea yet? Meditated?" Bruce held up his hands.

"Making tea now, already meditated, working on breakfast." Steve nodded.

"Fine. I'll find Clint after I grab Thor. Tony, _shower_ for God's sake." He stalked over to the elevator, pastries in hand. The elevator closed shut and whirled down and Steve closed his eyes and pressed his head to the cold metal walls, trying to take his heart rate down. He hated feeling shaky, unbalanced, and overall dangerous. The elevator 'pinged' open and he exited to see Thor pacing impatiently in the gym, dressed for sparring. He frowned deeply when he caught sight of Steve.

"Steve, are you not well? You are late today." Steve sighed and opened the box of breakfast pastries to offer the god.

"Yeah, buddy, I know. Sorry. I brought you some breakfast though." Thor picked out three different pastries with delight. One of his favorite things about Midgard was discovering new foods.

"Thank you, good Captain. You were not here for sparring today, and I have been awaiting a noble battle."

"You missing Jane again?" Thor rarely sparred with any of the team unless he was drunk, angry, or missing his sweetheart. As he suspected, Thor slumped over miserably.

"Aye. It has been too long since I have been with her, been with a lady. I fear it does not suit the mind nor the body well." He grimaced, trying to be as subtle as he could with Steve, who nodded in understanding.

"Right. I hear you buddy, have you tried calling her? I'd tell you to go see her, but I'm not sure Fury would be very happy about that." Thor grunted.

"The Furious one does not command me. You are my leader in this world and I will go only when you have given me leave. And I could yell as loud as I wished and I do not think sweet Jane would hear my call."

"No Thor, have you called her on the phone? You have your cell for a reason." Thor nodded in understanding.

"Ah, yes. I fear I have once more broken the phone." Steve groaned and flexed his numb hands.

"Damn, well you'd better tell Tony, but he's going to be pissed with you. In the meantime just borrow a phone. I'm sure JARVIS would be happy to make the call for you." Thor nodded, stuffing his face with a pastry. "In the meantime, I don't really have time to spar, but maybe this evening if you're game."

"You never answered my question, Steve. Are you not well?" Thor didn't observe the same way that Natasha and Clint could, who would evaluate every tremble in his body with scrutiny, however he still knew Steve's schedule. The fact that something was off was enough to alert him.

"Yeah, Thor, I'm just fine. I got a little off track this morning was all. Fell asleep on the sofa with Tony." Thor nodded but his eyes narrowed. He looked as though he wanted to ask a question, but he kept his mouth shut.

"I see. As long as you have not fallen ill. Thank you for breakfast."

"Yeah, thanks for the concern. Before I go, have you seen Clint around at all?"

"The archer? I have not, nor have I heard him in the building's innards."

"Yeah, that's kind of what I was afraid of. Thanks, though. See you at lunch." Back on the elevator again, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed for Clint. It rang, but there was no answer. Not that it would be the first time that no one had seen or heard from him, but still it worried him. Back in the penthouse, Bruce and Tony were talking quietly over their mugs of tea and coffee. When Steve entered the kitchen, they both went silent. Steve opened his box of pastries and glared at Tony, who only stared back, unsure of what to say. "Damn it, did you even shower?" His hands went white knuckled.

"Of course I did, my hair is wet, isn't it?" Tony felt his hair and the wave of the man's expensive smelling hair products hit his nose. Bruce put a hand on Steve's arm to steady him. He must've looked as though he was ready to lash out.

"He just got back here, Cap. You want some tea?" He held up his much optimistically. Steve shook his head and took a bite out of a strawberry filled confection. Tea was much to bitter for his taste.

"Where's Nat?"

"Still en route. No sign of Clint, I take it?" He shook his head. God, he felt sick his heart was pounding so hard.

"No, I called him and nothing." Tony rolled his eyes over a mug of coffee.

"Yeah, big surprise. He's a big boy, he'll find his way home."

"Not helping, Tony." Steve snapped out once more. Jesus, he was going to work Tony into a silent period if he wasn't careful. Not something that needed to happen when he was already on edge. He was being a shitty friend, a shitty team leader today and his stomach only churned more at the thought.

"You're right, my bad. We'll get the damn kid some tags or something eventually, to track him." Steve was surprised at the apology, if only for a moment.

"Shit! Lunch, what are we doing for lunch?" He raked a hand through his hair, wishing he could still feel the sensation of Tony's callused hands on his skin.

"I'll make sandwiches. We have an hour, just go sit down." Steve moved to protest but Bruce put his foot down. " _Go_ , Steve. Go relax, go draw." Steve quaked with anger in his spot. He wanted to yell at him, tell him it wasn't the time to relax yet, he was supposed to be doing something else. But, how pathetic would that have sounded? He already looked like he was off his rocker, he needed to keep it together. He took in a breath and set his jaw.

He picked a fresh pad of paper from the coffee table and one of his pencils that he kept in nearly every drawer in the tower. He moved away from the kitchen to seclude himself outside. It was still cool enough outside that it could maybe calm him down. He took to sketching his hand, his fist. It didn't do much in the realm of helping relax him, unfortunately. He preferred to draw when he was in a calm state of mind, when sketching came easy. When he was like this, strung out, he only messed up whatever he was trying to portray, and it only infuriated him more. Still he tried, but it ended with him tearing the page out and tossing it in the wind, off the tower in a fit of rage. He yelled to the wind as he threw it. Immature, to be sure, but he could care less. He trudged back into the penthouse, aware of eyes on him, but he tried to ignore them and settled into a barstool. The clock read 12:30 and it was lunch time. At least he had gotten that part of his day right. A sandwich was set in front of him and he looked up. It was only Bruce, Tony, and Thor in the kitchen. His hands gripped each other tight in front of him and he stared at the sandwich, trying so, so hard to control himself.

"Still no Natasha? No word from Clint?" He asked to the room. Good, good, he was keeping it cool. At least, he thought so.

"Tasha called, she's still an hour out. We have no clue where Clint is." Steve dipped his head down and exhaled.

"Ok, I guess we're going to be late to S.H.I.E.L.D today." Ok, he could deal with that. They had been late before.

"Actually, I just went ahead and called you all out. Fury agreed that you could use the day off if Nat's getting back late and Clint's MIA anyways." Steve blacked out for a moment, but there was the sound of marble breaking and a yell. He came to a moment later and found that he had slammed his fist against the counter and broken a very formidable section off.

"God fucking damn it, is it _too much_ to ask to stick to a _God damned_ schedule?!" He yelled, dizzy, his heart humming against his chest. "And you just _call me out_? We're fucking up our team meeting, Clint might be dead, and _I'm out of work for the day_?" The room was still and there was a thumping at the trash shoot. Thor, ever curious, opened the hatch to see Clint's face smudged with an assortment of grime.

"Clint's not dead! I'm here, I've been stuck in here for hours. I finally got to where you could hear me." He gave a weak smile from the chute and Steve stood up, unable to take the stress.

"Motherfucker! Thor, get his stupid ass out of there!" He barked out and then he was in his floor, unable to remember getting there, but he was horrifically nauseous and ran into the bathroom, turning the shower as cold as it could go. He stepped in, clothes and all, chest heaving with labored breaths. He clutched at his chest and his eyes watered, feeling as though he wasn't getting enough air, like he was drowning again. He yelled and crumpled up. It had never been this bad, his anxiety, his stress. And yet, he was in the shower, crying and desperate for breath, for balance. He could hear commotion outside his door and arguing voices, and then Tony came barreling through the door. He stopped in the doorway of the bathroom and hung there for a moment, his eyes caught on Steve, who only looked past him.

"Get the hell out of here!" He yelled with what little breath he could manage. Tony ignored him and entered to turn off the water. He pulled Steve up and wrapped him in a towel, and the larger man didn't resist.

"Sit down, come on, there. Now lay back. Breathe, Steve. Deep breaths." He maneuvered him to Steve's bed and wrapped him in the thick comforter. He sat next to him and rubbed his chest and head. "Deep breaths, Steve. Come on, breathe it out." Steve closed his eyes and focused on taking in as much air as his lungs would allow. "In the nose, out the mouth." Tony said patiently. Steve only groaned weakly to let him know he was trying. "Yeah, I know, I'm an asshole. Just do what I'm telling you." He didn't know how long he laid there until his heart settled back into a normal rhythm and the shaking had nearly subsided. He felt Tony move away from his side and something was placed next to him. Tony's hand was on his shoulder.

"Get up, we're going to get you out of those wet clothes. Not good to be wet and freezing cold. Put those on." Steve reluctantly pushed the comforter off of him and shivered when cold air hit him. He had soaked himself to the bone with damn cold water. He moved to pull off his shirt and hesitated, shooting Tony a glance. "Oh come on, I've seen you change, just put the clothes on, you prude." He teased. Nevertheless, he turned around while the super soldier changed into fresh clothing. While Steve got out of the soaked clothes, Tony moved to the door and retrieved something from someone outside. He argued with the presence and huffed as he closed the door again. He held up a steaming mug. "Hot cocoa, you like that stuff, right? DUM-E brought it up. He was trying to force his way in." He handed the hot drink off to Steve, still shirtless. Steve took it gratefully, sat down and drank it quickly, despite the fact that it burned his tongue as it went down. The burning liquid warmed his aching chest nicely. "Feel better?" Tony plopped on the bed next to him and took interest in his hands in the silence.

"Yeah." Steve said finally. Tony nodded his head and neither said anything while Steve finished his drink.

"Let's make a deal. You tell me what happened, I'll let you know what happened, deal? Deal." Steve looked at him and nodded, slightly reluctant to suddenly be spilling his guts. He hoped he wouldn't look bad in Tony's eyes, or seem weak, or foolish. Regardless of his fears, he sucked in a breath.

"I keep a schedule." He started. Tony snorted, lying back.

"You don't say? We hadn't noticed." Steve's mouth twitched against a smile.

"Yeah, I know you know. But I haven't really said why I keep it, or that I try to keep it to a T." He swallowed, his throat tight. "I've been having anxiety problems since I woke up. For the most part they're not bad. Supposedly it's PTSD, but I wouldn't know much about it. Anyways, keeping on a military tight schedule is the only thing that helps me deal. And I know that's stupid, but it makes sense for me. I need some order in being part of this insanity, living in a tower 70 years from when I plunged a plane into the arctic and was supposed to die, in a team of 'superheroes' fighting supervillains, one of us being a Norse god…It's just a little crazy. On top of being emotionally unstable, it's tough. So when I screw up my routine, it starts to creep up on me."

Another breath, to calm himself. "This is the first time I've had a serious problem with it. I'm not being a good leader or a good friend to any of you, and you sure as hell don't deserve that. I haven't been sleeping, part because of nightmares, partly because of the stress. I didn't want any of you to know, but you didn't seem to care." He sighed, "And now, I look like-I _am_ , an emotionally compromised idiot who can't support or take care of his team. I'm going to get you killed someday, or not be paying attention and the worst is going to happen and that's going to be on me." The words hung there for a moment until Tony took up the reigns.

"You mind if I say something?" Tony sat back up. Steve shrugged, neither one of them meeting each other's eyes. "We don't give a damn about your anxiety, your stress, whatever problems you've got because we've got them too, Steve. We're not going to judge you, or kick you out, hell it's probably a requirement for the team." Steve grinned. Likely true. "If anything, we should know about your problems, and that's going to make me sound like a hypocrite in a minute, but we should know. We'll be there when there are days like this. Now, as for taking care of us, I know you want to but it shouldn't be a burden. It's not your job to take care of us, to check in. We're all big boys and girls and we can move through life without momma Rogers." Steve's face twisted in anger.

"Yeah? You really think this team would be standing, that you would still be alive if I didn't check up on you morons? I mother hen because I care, Tony. It's not a job, it's not something that needs to be done. I want to keep you alive and sane. All of you. If the team doesn't work, that's fine, but I want each one of us to walk away, _alive_."

"That shouldn't be a burden on you. Not when you've got your own stuff to deal with." Steve scoffed.

"I'm sorry, didn't you just say we should rely on each other to stay together?" Tony was quiet.

"Yeah, I guess I did. I told you; hypocrite. What I'm trying to say is, you shouldn't wear yourself thin with us. Keep some attention for taking care of yourself. Don't get so caught up in making sure that we're alive and well that you die from the exhaustion." Another silence among them while Steve thought over Tony's words. Tony broke the silence, very quietly.

"I was going to kill myself this morning." Steve whirled around to look at Tony, who was pensively staring at the wall. There was a sadness in his eyes. "That's the only reason I tried to keep you close today. I didn't want to be alone, not for a second. I have dreams too. Nightmares, actually. I stay awake to keep them away. Sometimes, like today, I fall asleep and they happen, and I panic. I get tossed into anxiety, kind of like you do. Except, for me, it feeds into a depression and…I get stuck in my own head and insecurities. Eventually I panic and it leads to…"

He was gulping hard, trying to keep the words coming. "I'm not proud to admit it, and it's not fair of me, but I rely on you to come to the workshop and be there if I fall asleep. That way, you can wake me up, or be there if I get a little lost. When you weren't there, and I had those nightmares, I panicked. I was close to ending it, so I went looking for you, knowing you wouldn't turn me away. It's not fair or right for me to expect that you hang around in the lab, but I won't lie, it makes life a _hell_ of a lot easier when you come down for the night." He turned to meet Steve's eyes. "I shouldn't be dumping this on you, I'm-" Steve stopped him.

"You better put a nice bed down there for me, Stark." He smiled. Tony didn't return the gesture and only looked away with a frown.

"That's not fair to you though. You shouldn't be expected to stay down there, just for my sake."

"Actually, the big reason I can't sleep in here is that no one's around. It gets kind of lonely, you know?" Tony shook his head, sullenly.

"You won't be able to sleep down there, I know you sleep light." Steve frowned.

"I sleep pretty damn well down there, knowing I won't have to wake up at a moment's notice. No getting out of this now, Tony." Finally, the other man smiled.

"You're going to regret it. You talk in your sleep, did you know?" Steve laughed but internally he screamed a bit.

"No, I hope I don't say anything embarrassing." He laid back and Tony did the same.

"You mostly just say gibberish. Everything else is too quiet to hear." Thank god. They drifted into a relaxed state when Steve interrupted.

"Does this make us sleeping pals?" Tony laughed loudly. Steve blushed, feeling quite stupid.

"The world's first sleeping pals. Sure, why not? If we're not in the shop, then down here." Steve smiled, close to sleep. If he had to pick a day to fuck up his schedule, he was damn glad it was this one.


End file.
